Anything But Spring
Anything but spring
I've no time for frivolity
and the increase in daylength
constricts my nocturnal emissions.
The snow is almost gone,
white replaced by mud,
and the red bird's cheery call
curdles the cream
in my morning coffee.
Yet as catkins emerge
from budding willows
and the wind softens
inevitably
comes the time
to break from hibernation.
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